Marisa : The First Year
by Aerdna
Summary: This story depicts Harry's events in the 4th year, but in another point of view. It follows Marisa Alvarez, daughter of a Death Eater. Read it, I guarantee its original.
1. Chapter One

Marisa: The First Year  
  


A/N: I promised myself I would put absolutely no author's notes in here (as if anyone actually reads them) but I suppose I should at least put in one, to help everyone understand my story. This is the same Hogwarts, with the same teachers, the same characters, and the same plots, but in a new character's point on view. This story begins in Harry's fourth year.   
  


Enjoy.  
  


Chapter One  
  


A young girl yawned lazily from the confines of her room. She lay on her belly, legs crossed in the air, swinging back and forth. On her feet were perched her new shoes, recently imported from Cambodia. Her elbows were bent, supporting her head with her hands. She peered over the latest issue of Witch Weekly, looking intently at the latest fashions in the wizarding world.  
  


This young girl's name was Marisa Alvarez. She was a small girl, 11-years-old, with dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin. Her hair was neatly tied into two braided pigtails, both swaying over the cover of the magazine. As she read, Marisa hummed a song a song as she skimmed through the pages.   
  


She looked up, still humming, and surveyed the contents of her room. It was a deep red, with cherry wood furniture imported from London. A small chandelier hung over her bed, the candles flickering in the evening light. In front of her overly-sized bed was a large marble fireplace where beautiful candles and their expensive holders rested. Hanging above her fireplace was a life-size portrait of herself, sitting in the rose garden behind her estate. The Marisa in the picture swatted at a bee flying around her face.  
  
  


Magical toys tinkered and flew all over the room. Dolls that were enchanted to have tea parties sat at a table, holding their cups with their pinkies and chatting animatedly. A small unicorn with wings fluttered around the room, occasionally braying. Pictures of her and her family were posted upon the walls with elaborate frames, the people in the pictures moving as if it were a movie.   
  


Marisa's french doors were open, letting a cool breeze fill the room. Her pigtails swayed a bit more now. She looked up, and saw that her chandelier was swaying as well. The candles were now flickering at an alarming rate, and they threatened to burn out completely. A draft entered the room.  
  


Bored with the magazine, she sat up and called her house elf.  
  


"Prestia! Where are you?" Marisa called as she rang a little silver bell. She got no response. With an annoyed voice, she tried again "Yoohoo!".  


There was a pause where Marisa looked around her room again. One of her dolls spilled some imaginary tea on her blouse, the other dolls were trying desperately to calm her down. The unicorn flew over to where they were, it almost seemed like his neighing was laughing. She looked back to her door and saw a small, pudgy elf standing in front of her, wringing her hands as if nervous about something.  


"Yes, miss?" asked her timid house elf in a squeaky voice. Marisa always thought she sounded like she just swallowed a balloon full of helium. "I is here. Is there anything you be needing, miss?"  
  


Maria acted like this was the most absurd thing she ever heard. Rolling her eyes, she said, "Silly Prestia, of course I need something. That's why I called you, now isn't it?" She smiled a bit as she saw Prestia hesitate. One of her favorite habits was toying with her house elf.   
  


"I is sorry, miss. I is very silly. What will you be needing?" Prestia asked in an even more timid voice.  
  


"Well, I feel a bit chilly. I would like there to be a fire set in my fireplace, I need my french doors to be closed, and if any one of my candles in my chandelier goes out, I will need it relit. That will be all," she said. She gave Prestia a flick of her hand to signal that the conversation was over. Marisa gazed back at her magazine. The page she was reading vanished, and a new article about the Weird Sisters touring in Ireland appeared.  
  


"Yes miss. Right away," replied Prestia. She walked to start her chores, and then backtracked. She remembered she had a message for the young mistress. She looked up at Marisa and saw she had an amused expression on her face.  
  


"Yes...?" Marisa asked, almost bored with her dim-witted house elf.  
  


"I is sorry, miss. Master, he is here. He wishes for you to-"  
  


Before Marisa heard what her father wanted her to do, she was already speeding down her marble stairs, eager to see her father again. She ran through the deep-green billiard room and past the game room where her father kept his creature-heads mounted.   
  


Some tapestries hung on the walls, depicting her father's many hunts. She saw her father on the tapestry magically take down a hippogriff. The head was mounted on the wall next to it. Even though detached from the body, the head still moved and breathed as if it was still alive. When she pasted the bodiless hippogriff, it blinked, studying her. Marisa remembered her father once telling her that hippogriffs were very wary animals. Before approaching any human, it had to make sure it was trustworthy first. Marisa always wondered how her father captured it, since it was supposedly an alert animal. However, she forgot all this as she ran all the way to the reception room and into her father's arms.  
  


"Papa!" she squealed in delight, "You're finally back!" She hugged her father tightly, and looked up into her father's onyx eyes.  
  


Mario Alvarez was not an unfortunate-looking man. He had darky, curly hair that he kept gelled back. His cheeks always held the slight trace of a smile. Even when he was angry, there was always a hint of glee around his mouth. It was a peculiar sight, seeing Mario Alvarez mad. He had a booming laugh that could fill any room. At parties, Marisa could always locate her father by his loud, hearty laugh. Marisa adored him for the man he was, the life he lived, and the love he had for her.  
  


"Now, now, my princess, you make it sound like I was gone forever!" he replied. He looked down at her daughters scuffed heels, "Mi reina, what have I told you about running in your nice shoes? And the dragon scale ones, too! I just got them imported from-"  
  


"Sorry Papa, I was just so happy to see you," Marisa said. She burrowed into her father's arms again, "So...where is my present?" Marisa asked with a slight smirk.  
  


Mario smiled back at his only daughter, "Ah, I see my princess has a reason for wanting to meet me so badly, eh?" He chuckled.  
  


"Of course, Papa, why else would I be so eager?" she said, going on with her joke, "Now where is it?". She began to search his pockets, looking for it.  
  


"You're looking in all the wrong places, princess." He pulled a wrapped object from his bag, "I believe this is what you want...?"  
  


Before Marisa had a chance to open it, he stopped her. "Not here, upstairs. By yourself," he said and winked at her. Marisa winked back and stuck it in her pocket before her mother could see it.  
  


"Ah, Mario, you have returned". Marisa looked up to see her mother gliding gracefully down the stairs.   
  


Athene Alvarez always looked elegant, even when sleeping. She had an aristocratic air that anyone could detect. She always wore the same perfume, a faint smell of violets. She, like her daughter and husband, also had dark hair. However, her skin was pale and smooth from spending years indoors. She was wearing a beautiful white party gown, and a matching white witch hat was perched on top of her head. Marisa thought it was odd for her mother to be wearing her finery around the house.  
  


As she walked down the stairs, she looked at Marisa, almost as if inquiring something of her. Marisa didn't know why her mother was so perplexed by her appearance. She brushed it off, however, and continued to watch her mother. Athene held out her manicured hand to her husband. He took her hand in his and laid a gentle and loving kiss on it.  
  


"Athene, I have missed you so," he said right before laying another kiss on her hand. Athene gracefully walked closer to her husband and embraced him. Mario suddenly realized the state of his only daughter, "Ay, Marisa, did you not get the message from Prestia?" he inquired, after taking sight of the ordinary play clothes she was wearing.  
  


"Yes, she told me you were home," Marisa replied innocently.  
  


"It seems Prestia will have another punishment coming. She told you to meet me down here in your dinner gown, yes?"  
  


Marisa realized why her mother was frowning. In her haste to see her father, she didn't hear the other half of Prestia's message. Marisa lied, "No, Papa. I do not know why she would not tell me that. Perhaps she was mad at me for me ordering her around".  
  


"But that is her job, my child," Athene offered in her usual, distant way, "You must never feel guilty for making one do one's job.  
  


"Yes, very well said, my love. Athene, have Nancy see to the punishment. Now Marisa, run upstairs! Some of my business associates are visiting, I wish for them to meet my princess," Mario cried while heading to his room. Athene wrinkled her nose at being ordered around by her husband.  
  


"Yes, Papa! I shall wear my new dress!" she said to Mario's retreating back.  
  


"Brilliant, brilliant, just be quick about it!" he replied with a wave of his hand, not turning around.  
  


Athene nodded curtly at Marisa, and then glided to the kitchen, probably off to alert Nancy of the horrible wrongdoing that had occurred in her house.  
  


Marisa walked back through the game room (her father was now tying up a small, bull-like animal on the tapestry. The head was mounted next to it as well), past the billiard room (the billiard balls, getting bored, had decided to smack into each other to see which would go further), and up the stairs, slowly this time, trying hard not to damage her shoes any further. She walked back to her room and found Prestia still there.  
  


Feeling a little guilty about lying, she said, "Prestia, you might want to stay out of Nancy's way. I heard her dough-kneading spell backfired into her face."  
  


Prestia looked into her mistress's eyes in complete disbelief. Her mistress never tried to help her in any way. "I-I is thanking you, miss. You are most generous."  
  


Distractedly, Marisa responded, "Yes, yes, most generous. Now will you help me pick out a dress for the dinner party?".  
  


Prestia nodded a little too enthusiastically, "Yes, of course, of course, miss!" She was looking forward to paying back her mistress for the most generous tip that she offered, "Right away!"  
  


Walking past the tea-party dolls (it seems the pandemonium was over and they were back to gossiping again) they got to the doors of Marisa's large, elaborate closet. Both doors opened automatically as Marisa stood in front of it. Prestia and Marisa walked inside to be greeted by rows upon rows of new clothes.  
  


"I sorted your clothes," said Prestia proudly, "New clothes left, old clothes right. Casual, bottom. Formal, top. Winter di-" She was cut off by an annoyed Marisa.  
  


"Look Prestia, I know I'm 'noble' and all for giving you that hint, but could you please stop 'repaying' me?" Marisa asked in a less than polite way.  
  


"Sorry, miss. I'll be off". Prestia looked somewhat relieved and scampered off.  
  


"House elves," Marisa muttered to herself, "You can't live with them, you can't live without them. Now lets see, it will be a formal occasion..."  
  


As soon as those words left Marisa's mouth, the rows of clothes began to move. Skirts, shirts, and jackets whizzed before Marisa, who again was looking very bored. They rearranged themselves, the articles of clothing squeezing in to whatever space they were supposed to be in. She remembered her father's gift, still in her back pocket.  
  


"Oh, yes. Papa's gift". She looked quickly around to make sure Prestia was truly gone. Seeing that she was alone, she tore open the wrapping on her gift. Inside she found two boxes, one on top of the other. Setting the other down, she picked up the heaviest one first.  
  


Inside was an intricately carved silver jewelry box. On the top were fairies and such, enchanted to move around a magical forest. A centaur galloped through the woods, his mane flowing behind him in the wind. Even though the box was about 5 inches in diameter, the centaur never ran out of room to run. It was almost as if the box was moving with him, showing new parts of the forest to her as he ran. She took the card out and read it.  
  


'Mi reina,

I saw these gifts in a market where I was stationed for business. The box is enchanted to show you what is happening in a forest in this country at the exact moment. The creatures that appear are real. I saw it and I thought of you. Open it.'  
  


Marisa opened the lid of the silver box. A light, happy melody was playing. She did not know the name of the song, but it sounded strangely familiar.  
  


'The music played will fit whatever mood you are in. If you are sad, a sad song will play. If you are happy, a happy song will play, etc. etc. A group of Transylvanian warlocks fashioned this from ancient silver and some of their own emotions. Years ago, Transylvania was in distress, the witches and wizards would listen to the music change from despair to happiness, and it would cheer them up. This box enchanted me, and I hope it will enchant you. Listen to the music when you are sad. I guarantee you that you will not be sad for long.'  
  


Marisa could picture her father winking when she read that. Marisa paused to open the other box. A small silver mirror with a silver handle floated out of the box. It fit into Marisa's hand perfectly. After investigating the mirror a bit, Marisa found that the mirror matched the jewelry box.   


Instead of the creatures of the land, however, there were creatures of the sea. Majestic creatures floated gracefully on her mirror, it almost seemed like her mirror was a body of water. Instead of following a centaur, it followed a sea creature that Marisa had never seen before. It had a long, flowing body with no fins. Instead, there were many thin layers of skin that branched out, much like an angelfish. Marisa watched it for a while, tranquilized.  


Marisa moved her vison from the back of the mirror to the handle. It handle looked like the ocean itself. Magical waves splashed around Marisa's hand. She saw many smaller sea creatures gliding along in the water. She looked in the mirror, and then back to the note. A scarf flew directly in front of her face at this time, causing Marisa to jump back a little and squeal. After the shock, she settled down to read the note again.  
  


' The mirror, as you may have noticed, is the second in a set with the jewelry box. If another person gazes into the mirror, you will be able to tell their intentions. If the water is angry and stormy, the person is up to no good. If the water is calm and gentle, the person is trustworthy. Keep in mind that the mirror does not judge good from evil, it just tells what the person is doing against your version of right and wrong. I know it is confusing, but I hope you might learn what I mean after using the mirror. Again, this was fashioned in the days of distress for Transylvania. The warlocks used it to find who they could trust. Look beautiful for my party.'

  
  


'Con amo,

Papa'  
  


*Ding*. Marisa looked up and found her that clothes had stopped their cycle. All of her formal clothes were right in front of her. She went back to her room and set her gifts on the vanity. She then marched back to her closet and began looking for the perfect outfit for the party. Her fingers skimmed the delicate fabrics of her dresses as she walked past them. Several of them caught her eye, but after looking at them closer, she found that they were not suitable for the occasion.  
  


"Hm. Papa said he wanted them to meet his princess..." Marissa muttered to herself, "I suppose that means I should look like a princess, now doesn't it? Ah, here we are!"  
  


She stopped in front of a lavender satin gown. She pulled it down from the closet and examined it further. It was a simple dress, going down to her ankles. The light reflected over the delicate satin fabric. It had embroidery around the bottom of the dress depicting fairies fluttering around flowers. On top of it draped a matching robe. Magically hovering above it was the matching hat. It was the same color as the gown, with some embroidery around the brim and all the way to the very top of the pointed hat. After some searching, Marisa found the matching shoes as well.  
  


"This will do perfectly," Marisa said, satisfied.  
  


She walked over to her bed, laid the dress on it, and began to change. Looking at her portrait, she saw she was now sitting nicely on the bench, flashing a cheesy smile. While she was doing so, the tiny unicorn found it necessary to come inspect the outfit. He scampered to the bed, sniffed at it, and was about to walk on top of it for further inspection before Marisa swatted him away.  


"No, Trifole! You mustn't wrinkle my dress!"  
  


Trifole brayed in protest. With that, the winged unicorn flew away, slightly miffed at his owner. He flew right back to where the other enchanted toys resided and got interested in other things. He snorted one more time in Marisa's direction to show she wasn't forgiven.  


  
  
  
  


Marisa rolled her eyes. "Silly unicorn. Well, I suppose that does it," Marissa said after her gown and shoes were on. She fastened the robe around her front, clasping it with a heart-shaped pin. The front was open enough to show her new gown. As Marisa walked past her vanity, she realized that her hair was not yet ready.  
  


"Oh...I don't have enough time to do anything fancy. Ugh, here." Marisa undid her braids and let the curls cascade down her back. She took a brush off her desk and allowed it to brush her hair. She saw the tube of makeup her mother had allowed her to buy at Madame Malkin's last time they went there. After much begging, her mother agreed to buy it for her on the condition that she would wear it only for special occasions. Unlike "muggle" makeup, magic lip gloss never lost its shine, allowing the witch to wear it for days before having to reapply it.  
  


The brush still brushing her hair, she applied a small amount of lip gloss. "Mother said I could use it for fancy occasions, right? I suppose this is fancy?" she asked to her room, while at the same time convincing herself. Trifole simply snorted again. Marisa whirled around and glared at her rebellious toy.  
  


"Well who asked you? The witches seem to agree with me." Marisa pointed to a group of plastic dolls enthusiastically bobbing their head up and down."Ah, you can stop brushing my hair now! "  
  


The brush was now pulling on Marisa's hair to the point where it hurt. Upon command, the brush flew down and settled at it's space on the vanity. Marisa peered back at the mirror. Her wild curls were now brushed, but a bit fuzzy. Marisa tried to use some Sleakeazy's hair gel to smooth it out. It worked, to some degree. Instead of having little frizzies everywhere, they were now clumped together. It wasn't perfect, but it was a step up from before. Marisa sighed.  
  


"Acceptable. I guess I look like a princess having a bad hair day. That still counts." Trifole just brayed, mocking his owner more. "Excuse me, but I don't need fashion sense from a unicorn that doesn't wear clothes!" Marisa said, annoyed. Trifole stopped braying and walked into a more secluded part of her room, defeated. Marisa checked her reflection one more time. Seeing no more flaws (apart from her wild hair), she fixed her robe on more securely, put her hat carefully on her head, and walked towards her door.  
  


Pulling it open, she said, "That's better. Well, here I go." With that, Marisa left her room.  
  



	2. Chapter Two

Chapter 2  


Just to let you know, there will be no romance in this story. Geeze, they're only 11.  
  
  
  
  


As Marisa was walking down the hallways, she already was forming a plan in her head. She had to make a grand entrance to impress all of her father's business friends, something far better than the last time. Her father was constantly showing Marisa off, and Marisa didn't mind it one bit. She thought she was born to be the life of the party. Marisa stopped stomping around her estate and began to make small, dainty steps. She remembered what her mother once told her, to walk as if a spell book was on her head, and she did so. Already she began to feel fancier.  
  


During her walk down the corridor, she could see her ancestors peering at her from behind their frames. On the most part, they seemed impressed by her attire. They waved and smiled, one daring uncle whistled at her. There were also a few sour apples who shook their head disgustedly at her and whispered to the other portraits. Marisa noticed her deceased Aunt Sophie do this, and Marisa stopped in front of her frame. Marisa stood in front of her, glaring at her, almost challenging her to tell her what she was whispering about. It would be something about her, no doubt. Aunt Sophie loved ridiculing Marisa every chance she got.  
  


Aunt Sophie was a large woman, to put it mildly. She was as wide as she was tall. She penciled on her eyebrows, making her look like she was always in shock. On top of that, she always wore a particular emerald brooch on the right side of her dress robes. It was in the shape of a spider, and it was bewitched to crawl around the front of her shirt, though it never left a specific area. Marisa remembered when her aunt was alive, she always smelled awful, like mothballs. Aunt Sophie glared at Marisa from behind the spectacles that she held in her hand. "Yes...?" she inquired. She lifted her fake eyebrows a bit, making her look even more surprised. She fixed the black hat on her head and patted her hair, trying to tame it. The spider crawled a little bit, giving Aunt Sophie a creepy look.  
  


"Aunt Sophie! Do you think I'm stupid?" Marisa started, "Don't you go whispering about me when I'm right in front of you!" She shook her fists at the portrait and then stuck her tounge at her, making her look like a 5 year old. Aunt Sophie, however, was undeterred. She was used to Marisa's old taunts. They grew tiring after a while. She peered again from behind her spectacles and gazed at Marisa with an amused look on her face.  
  


"My dear, I was simply speaking to Thelia," she waved her hand to the portrait next to her, "of the ball that is about to take place. However, if I was to whisper about you, it would be about how unladylike you are. And, my precious," Marissa gritted her teeth at this, "it seems you would be proving my point, doesn't it?" Aunt Sophie replied cooly. Next to her, the portrait of great-aunt Thelia cackled insanely. Marisa was fuming.

  
  
  


"Oh....you're infuriating! You wait until I tell Papa! And Thelia, you old biddy, you'll get what's coming to you!" spat back Marisa. She was at her wits end with Aunt Sophie, always judging her and her behavior. "Perhaps Papa could move you two to another room...maybe the basement?" Marisa stood back and crossed her arms with a triumphant look on her face. She had finally told Aunt Sophie what she wanted to say months ago. Thelia had a look of fright on her face, but Aunt Sophie stood firm.  
  


"If he wanted to, he won't be able to. I put a Sticking Spell on my portrait when I was living. There is no force on Earth that can remove my picture now." This resulted in another cackle from Thelia and another smirk from Aunt Sophie. "Oh, and by the way my dear, I wouldn't get into a huff if I were you. Your cheeks turn the most awful shade of red when you do that."  
  


Marisa didn't stick around to listen to the rest of Aunt Sophie's ravings. She was so fed up that she left in the middle of her lecture. "So much for being dainty," thought Marisa half-heartedly. She realized she was stomping again, so she slowed down and tried to prepare for her entrance. Continuing her walk to the ballroom, Marisa could hear Sophie yelling such things like, "Wait! I wasn't finished!". 

  
  


Thelia consoled Sophie, telling her false things like, "She just couldn't handle it". Marisa smirked, knowing that no matter how rude Aunt Sophie got, she could always walk away from her.  
  


Finally, Marisa got to the stairs. Remembering her plan to be dainty, Marisa let one graceful hand slide down the banister while the other stayed limply by her side. She could see some guests still mingling in reception room. While walking down the stairs, she heard her mother's drawling voice repeat hints on how to appear elegant. Marisa raised her head ("Remember the spell book") and looked around the room ("Don't look too interested"). She finished walking down the stairs ("One foot in front of the other, slowly") and walked out among the guests.  
  


She saw some older guests pointing at her and smiling. The regular guests at the Alvarez Estate were well used to Marisa's entrance and speech. They were enchanted by this little girl's elegance. "Well, I suppose that worked pretty well," she thought to herself, "I guess I should greet Papa's guests now."  
  


She roved through the crowds and walked up to people she was acquainted with, curtseying and holding her hand out to receive kisses. The older men humored her and kissed her small wrist as if she was a prima ballerina. The older women, slightly laughing at the small girl's antics, nodded their heads at her in acknowledgment, treating her like she was a full grown woman. Marisa smiled as she thought of how proud her papa would be.   
  


Marisa remembered what her father told her to do before every dinner party. She was to receive the guests and lead them to the ballroom. Because she was so short, Marisa went up a few steps on the stairs to make her more visible to the small crowd. Taking a deep breath, she proclaimed, "Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the dinner party of Mario Alvarez!" If anyone was talking before, they weren't now. The sight of a small child directing a room was so very quaint she had the attention of everyone in the room. "We thank you for your presence and we are happy to have you here. For those of you who have not had the pleasure of being acquainted with me, I am Marisa Alvarez, daughter of Mario." Some guests chuckled at this. "Please, leave your coats to any one of our house elves," Marisa made a slight movement of her hand, indicating the house elves, "and follow me!".  
  


All of the new guests clapped at the end of Marisa's speech. Marisa smiled broadly and walked down the stairs. While waiting for her guests to dispose of their coats, she took a chance to glance at them. Some she recognized, like the Malfoys with their only son, and the Notts. When she caught Mr. Nott's eyes, he nodded curtly at her, in a manner very similar to her mothers. She understood that Mr. Nott grew up on the same street as her mother. As soon as the guests were rid of their coats, she led them to the ballroom.  
  


The relatively new guests were familiarizing themselves with the house, Marisa noticed. They seemed thoroughly impressed by Mario's collection of magical objects. Marisa paused for a bit, letting the guests observe her father's collection of magical instruments. The young Mr. Malfoy in particular was captivated by a withered hand sitting on a cushion. Marisa always thought it was gross, and she begged her father to rid of it. He wouldn't hear of it, however, and he said it was important for his business. Marisa didn't say anything about it after that.  
  


"Excuse me, Miss Alvarez?" asked the Malfoy boy, "Where did your father get this?"  
  


Marisa could hardly contain her glee at being called "miss". She smiled a bit, and then looked up to answer his question, "Knockturn Alley, I believe. It is called the-"  
  


"Hand of Glory," he finished.  
  


"Pardon me, but how did you know that?" Marisa inquired. It was the first time anyone actually knew the name of one of the instruments in this room. She heard some adults laugh as soon as she said the words "pardon me" ("Such well bred! I will have to tell Mario how impressed I am," she heard one say), but she ignored them.

  
  


"Oh, I saw it a couple of years ago," he replied nonchalantly. He shrugged and went to examine some other objects in the room. The guests were in awe with the many different torture devices her father had collected. Marisa informed them that all of them were precisely 500 years old and were used in the Middle Ages. They were formed like some old muggle torture objects, but fortified with magic, making the pain more excruciating. 

  
  


Marisa eventually grew tiresome of explaining every device in the room. To proceed with the group she said, "Whomever wishes to stay and watch the object may if they wish. I will ask the rest of you to follow me to the ballroom." Marisa was relieved to see almost everyone follow her. The Malfoy boy had chosen to stay behind. Marisa just walked away, figuring he could find his way on his own. 

  
  


Marisa stopped at a large pair of mahogany doors. Again, woodland creatures were carved into it, all of them moving by enchantment. Marisa was reminded of her mirror and jewelry box just then. "A-hem!," she started, to get the guests' attention, "Through these doors is the ballroom, where my father will be meeting you. I hope you have a pleasant stay in our estate. Au revoir!" Marisa thought the bilingual effect was a nice touch. She also curtseyed to wrap it all up. She escorted the guests through the doors (One of them was chuckling again) and then shut them as soon as everyone was in. Satisfied because of a job well done, Marisa went to find her mother.

  
  


She saw her father walk into the room. "McNair! Malfoy! Warrington! How pleasurable to see you!" Marisa heard Mario boom. All of the men in the room (and some of the women) went over to see her father. Marisa noticed her father looked very sharp that evening; he was wearing his best dress robes with a suit tailored in Italy. To top it off, he had his favorite hat on, it was a deep black with stars periodically shooting across the fabric. 

  
  


As she walked past him, she heard the one her father called "Warrington" say, "Mario, your little girl, she is fantastic! She had us enchanted during her whole 'tour'," he paused and chuckled, "She is the most darling little girl I've ever met." Mario looked up and caught eyes with Marisa. He winked and beckoned her over with his finger.

  
  


"Thank you, Warrington. And here is my little princess now. Say hello to papa's friends for me," Mario took Marisa by the shoulders and pushed her towards his friends. Marisa was a little undignified for being spoken to like that, but nevertheless, she put on a dazzling smile and curtseyed. The mean clapped and smiled. Mario smiled at her, signaling that it was time for her to go now.

  
  


Marisa took this opportunity to look for her mother again. While scanning through the crowds, she managed to get her first real look at the ballroom's decorations. The marble floor's colorings were changed again, probably thanks to their cook, Nancy. She changed the colors of rooms and floors whenever it fit her mood (with Athene's permission, of course). Instead of the grey that it was yesterday, it was now a deep green accompanied by onyx. The walls, too, were a deep green that matched the marble. She looked up at the rotunda and saw the familiar witches and wizards carved around the base, containing both family from her father's side and her mother's side. As soon as a new cousin was born, or someone was married into the family, their face would magically appear on the rotunda. Marisa looked around for her etching and she found it, skipping around the base.

  
  


Marisa snapped back into reality as she heard her mother calling her. "Marisa! Oh Marisa, darling!" Athene glided across the room to her daughter. Marisa's mother never walked, she glided. Marisa had always tried to mimic her actions, but it could never quite come up to standards with her mother's graceful glide. "I am so pleased to see you," she stated, emotionless. She then drew Marisa into an awkward hug.

  
  


Marisa knew that the hug was all for show. It happened at every one of their dinner parties. Marisa was used to it, and they had a quite believable show for their guests. "As am I, mother," she responded, deepening the hug.

  
  


"There are some children in that corner," Athene said as she pointed a bony finger toward the left side of the room, "you may visit with them if you wish." 

  
  


The "if you wish" was platonic. Marisa knew her mother was trying to draw her away from the adults. She usually did this when they had some important business to discuss. "Of course, mother," Marisa replied as she tried to glide away. The effect was ruined, however, as she tripped over an unwary house elf. She saw her mother chuckle a bit as she watched her try to compose herself. Marisa then watched as her mother actually managed to glide away, without tripping over any house elves. Marisa whirled around in fury at the offending elf. It was Tules.

  
  


"Oh, Tules, you dunce! You messed up my glide!" Marisa shouted at the poor house elf. Tules cowered in fear, awaiting his punishment. Marisa, thankfully for Tules, was not in the mood for such things at the moment. "You may go," she said with a flick of her hand. Tules sauntered off, desperately trying not to trip any more humans.

  
  


Marisa was still walking when she heard her father announce to the room that the food was being served. Some groups of idle chatters moved away to form a queue, so Marisa could finally make her way towards the corner. Once she got there, she could see about 8 children, 3 girls and five boys, in different groups, talking about different subjects. She quickly walked past two boys talking about Quidditch. Quidditch was a nuisance to her, and she didn't want to hear more than what was necessary. She moved a bit closer to the 3 girls, but saw that they were all about 3 years younger than her, much to her disappointment. 

  
  


Finding no one to talk to, she sat on a bench and sighed. Even though it was a very unladylike thing to do, she rested her elbow on the armrest and held her head in her hands. She looked off to the side and saw another young child about her age sitting with her. He looked equally bored. At that same moment, he looked at her. 

  
  


He was a short boy, about 2 inches shorter than herself. He was wearing his best dress robes, just like everyone else in the room. He had straight, mousy brown hair, all laying neatly around his face. He was pale, probably from staying inside with his tutor all day. He, like her father, also had a trace of a smile visible in his cheeks. He looked about her age or less. Upon studying his face, Marisa realized she recognized him.

  
  


"Bored?" he asked.

  
  


She ignored his question and asked him another one. "I know you...you're the Braddock boy, aren't you?" she inquired.

  
  


He smirked and said, "So...I have a reputation already?" Marisa opened her mouth in shock. No one ever spoke to her like that.

  
  


She icily turned back around and replied, "No. I've seem you at some of my father's other business parties. Now would you please deflate your head and come back to Earth?" She studied her nails, finding them much more interesting than that boy at the moment.

  
  


"Gosh, I was only kidding. I guess you're no more interesting than the parents in here," he said, turning around as well.

  
  


As soon as that comment left his mouth, Marisa whirled around angrily. "How dare you? I simply don't like mingling with those whose egos are so large they cannot fit through a normal-sized door," she retorted.

  
  


"Well that won't be a problem, seeing that there aren't any normal-sized doors anywhere."

  
  


"Whatever," Marisa said. The conversation was decidedly over, so she got off the bench and walked away. As she stormed off, Tules got in her way. One glare got him running.

  
  


"Hey, wait up!" she heard someone cry. Marisa turned around, only to find that annoying boy following her. She out on the snobbiest face she could muster and looked down at him.

  
  


"I don't know what you've been taught," she began, "but when someone walks away from you, it generally means the conversation is over and the other person does not wish to speak to you." She turned around to walk away again. She saw the Malfoy boy watching them with interest. He called over a large boy to watch them with him. How he found his way back, she didn't know. "Let him digest that through his gigantic head," she thought. She began to walk away, but he caught her arm. She glared at him as he began to talk again.

  
  


"Well, sor-RY, Miss Grouch," he said while rolling his eyes, "I was just wondering if I could get the name of the girl who hates my guts to the point of wanting me dead," he said before letting go of her arm. At this point, the Malfoy boy and his large friend were snickering at their little "cat-fight".

  
  


Marisa turned around and informed him, "I don't hate your guts and I don't wish you dead," she took a breath, "I just want you to leave me alone." She was about to leave when she remembered the first part of his request. "Oh yes, and my name is Marisa Alvarez. Good day."

  
  


Before Marisa could walk away, the boy grabbed her hand again. "Nice to meet you, Marisa," the boy said, shaking her hand, "I'm Malcolm. Malcolm Braddock. And I will not leave you until you give me a tour of this magnificent house of yours." He let go of her hand and looked at her, as if expecting for her to drop everything she was doing to take him on his little "tour".

  
  


"Do you honestly think I don't have better things to do than show a little boy around my house?" asked an annoyed Marisa. She glared down at him and then looked around the room, searching for something she could do to avoid taking this egotistical little boy around her house. Malfoy and his friend got bored of the children now that they simmered down. Marisa saw Malfoy tap a woman's shoulder and walk away, laughing as she turned around.

  
  


"Actually, yes. If you had better things to do, you wouldn't have been sitting there on that bench, doing nothing. Just like me," he retorted, "And just for you're information, I'm not little, I'm 10 years old. Going on 11 in June."

  
  
  
  


"Well that makes me older than you. So yes, you are little," shot back Marisa, trying to stall the time when he would force her to show him the house. She frantically looked around, searching for a way out.

  
  


"Oh, no you don't," he scolded, "You're not getting out of this. I know for a fact that you're as bored as I am. Let's go." Before she could protest, he grabbed her arm in a similar fashion that he did 5 minutes ago and dragged her towards the door. 

  
  


"Okay," he said, letting go of her arm, "tour time."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter Three

Chapter 3  
  


Marisa and Malcolm walked through the reception room. Marisa was silently seething and didn't bother to once point out any of the interesting objects in the room to her partner. He didn't seem to mind, Malcolm was content with just walking around with her, quietly admiring the fine works of art and the ancient pottery that adorned the room. Marisa, however, had her mind on other things.  
  


  
  


"Ugh." Marisa looked disgustedly at the little weasel who tricked her into showing him around the house. How did a boy 3 inches shorter than her force her out of a crowded ballroom and into the hall? It wasn't to much the idea of showing him around that bothered her, it was the way that....Malcolm boy got around to it. 

  
  
  
  


"Honestly, I am the daughter of Mario Alvarez! How did I manage to get duped like this?" She quickly shut her mouth when she realized she was speaking out loud.  
  


  
  


Malcolm looked up at her, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Talking to yourself, now are we?" Malcolm asked with a smile. Marisa noticed something she hadn't before, Malcolm was missing one of his front teeth. It made him look even more like a little child. Still, he tried to act as grown-up and macho as he could.  
  


  
  


He turned around and walked a ahead few feet with his hands behind his back, admiring a work of art. He looked rather like an art connoisseur deciding wether or not he would purchase the portrait he was observing. Without turning around, he said, "You know, you really shouldn't keep things bottled up like that. It's bad for the blood. It's best to just let it all out once in a while," he continued, trying to sound as adult-like as he could.  
  


  
  


"You want me to let it all out?" Marisa said angrily. She walked in front of him, blocking his view of the room. Malcolm looked up to Marisa, standing as tall as she could to intimidate him. He had a peaceful expression on his face, as if he was mildly amused. "Fine. I always get my way, and there is nothing and no one that can stop me. I never get tricked or walked over by anyone and you just managed to do so in the span of 15 minutes. Can you please tell me how?" she asked in one long breath.   


  
  
  


"My, my, don't we have a large vocabulary? Are you tutored as well?" Malcolm inquired. Marisa looked miffed that he had changed the subject, but she couldn't help but answer the question, as he was praising her.  
  


  
  


"Yes, in fact I am. I get tutored 5 times a week and in 3 different languages. Papa makes sure I am well educated," Marisa stated proudly. She stuck her nose in the air and crossed her arms in typical spoiled brat fashion. After seeing the look on her "friend's" face, she put her arms down and tried again to be ladylike. Malcolm pretended he didn't just see Marisa have a little hissy fit and continued with his inquiring.  
  


  
  


"Three languages, you say?" Malcolm asked. He saw Marisa nod and then let out a long, low whistle.  
  


  
  


"How do you say, 'Thank you for inviting me to your house, Mister Alvarez?'" he asked. He was hoping to impress the host of the party by showing off some bilingual speech. He didn't notice Marisa smiling to herself as she answered his question.  
  


  
  


"Usted se asemeja a una rata que muere gorda, Senor Alavrez," Marisa replied. She could see Malcolm looking up at the ceiling, struggling to remember it, and she couldn't wait until the moment he spoke those hilarious words to her father. Once he was quite sure he remembered his sentence, he snapped his head back at Marisa as if remembering something.  
  
  
  


"Hey, you're old enough to be attending school, right?" he asked.  


  
  
  


"Well, I am going to be enrolled in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, why do you ask?"  
  


  
  


"You don't say. I suppose I'll be seeing you there." Malcolm said it casually, trying to play it cool. He rubbed his fingernails on his jacket pocket, trying to come off as a very macho guy.  
  


  
  


Marisa, however, was unimpressed. "Only if I have a horribly rotten day," she said and sulked. Malcolm stopped shining his nails and looked at her with a disgusted expression.   
  


  
  


"You know, we just met and already you're treating me as if I'm some kind of muggle or something," Malcolm allowed a brief pause where they both shuddered, "You could at least try to be charitable to one of your guests," Malcolm said. He put an emphasis on the word "guests". He glared at her and continued speaking.  
  


  
  
  
  


"Now I believe the whole reason I'm walking with you is so you can give me a tour. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but generally on tours the guide actually explains some rooms and objects to the tour-ee's...?" Malcolm finished his speech and looked expectantly at Marisa. He had a smug look on his face, as if saying 'I sure told her'. Marisa just laughed for some reason.   
  


  
  


Malcolm looked at her with a perplexed expression on his face and said, "What, did I say something funny?"  
  


  
  


"No...its just that you sound ridiculous when you try to talk all fancy like that," Marisa said, still laughing. She took a look at Malcolm's open mouth and bursted out laughing again. The resemblence of Malcolm to a fish was just amazing. 

  
  
  
  


"Oh well pardon me, Miss Fancypants. You seem to be getting away with it just fine." Malcolm walked a bit into the next room and Marisa walked with him.  
  


  
  


"You bet your snitches I get away with it," Marisa said while walking. She made bigger strides to get in front of him until eventually putting a hand in front of his face, signaling for him to stop walking. "Okay, halt."  
  


  
  


"Who do you think you are, ordering me around like that? You know, just because I'm a guest doesn't mean..." Malcolm started, suddenly sounding like Marisa had less than 5 minutes ago.   
  


  
  


Marisa rolled her eyes and said, "Calm down, geeze. You said you wanted a tour? Well I'm going to give you one." Marisa paused and cleared her throat to sound more tour guide-like. "Here is the parlor. This is where we Alvarez's generally greet and entertain our guests in small groups. Here we have couches, tea tables and shelves all fashioned during Victorian-esque England. As you can see, the furniture has been protected by a spell to preserve it for years to come." She allowed a moment for Malcolm to expect the surroundings.  
  


  
  


The room was a deep blue with gold and white crown molding. A grandfather clock stood in the corner of the room, right next to the fireplace. Marisa checked the time. It was about 11:13, her father would be discussing business with his clients about now. In the center of the room, above the Victorian couch was mounted an oval-shaped portrait of the Alvarez family. Marisa was much younger than she was in the portrait hanging in her room, about two or three years old. The portrait was again taken in the rose garden, with Marisa seated on Athene's lap, occasionally looking into her mother's eyes and cooing. Mario was standing behind his family, his jacket thrown over his shoulder, looking down at his wife and daughter. Marisa looked back at Malcolm, who was checking the furniture for dust.  
  


  
  


"Squeaky clean," Malcolm decided, "House elves?"  
  


  
  


"Yes, we have about 4 of them. We also have a regular witch in control of the kitchen."  
  


  
  


"Ah," said Malcolm, "Our house elves were never good for cooking." He walked around the room again, looking into the portrait. Pointing at it, he said, "You were cute as a baby." Baby-Marisa was now tugging on Athene's hair, much to her dissatisfaction. Athene did her copyrighted nose-wrinkle and swatted Marisa's hand from her hair. Baby-Marisa frowned and turned around again.  
  


  
  


Marisa smirked a bit and said, "Thanks."  
  


  
  


"What happened?" Malcolm said, laughing. Marisa did not find it as "amusing" as Malcolm did. She grabbed a pillow from the couch and poised it over her head, ready to strike.  
  


  
  


"Oooohh....you little..." Marisa began. She began to walk towards him menacingly. With every step Marisa took, Malcolm took one back. Malcolm had both arms crossed over his head, bracing himself for the onslaught.  
  
  


  
  


"Wait!" cried Malcolm in desperation, "It's Victorian-esque! Imported from London!"   
  


  
  


Marisa's expression changed from fury, to confusion, and finally to hilarity. She suddenly placed the pillow back down on the couch and started laugh. Malcolm, finding no humor in the situation, just stared at her. When Marisa saw his inquisitive look, she began to explain.  
  


"You....you have no-no-no idea how.....PATHETIC you just-just looked!" Marisa finally managed to get out, holding her hands over her stomach, trying to stop laughing. Malcolm still didn't see what was funny about the scenario. He looked into the portrait and saw baby Marisa giggling at him as well. He scowled and turned to Marisa.  
  


  
  


"Am I really that funny?" he asked more to himself than to Marisa. She was unable to answer the question, however, because of her fits of laughter. He glanced at her again, and regarded her with a funny look in his eyes, "You are so weird, Marisa Alvarez."  


  
  
  


"So are you, Malcolm Bradock. I think we can be great friends." Malcolm opened his mouth to form a large "O". Marisa saw again his missing tooth. He placed both hands on his cheeks and pretended to be astounded. He looked around the room, and then back to Marisa.  
  


  
  


"What is this? Am I believing my ears? Did Marisa Alvarez actually offer her FRIENDSHIP to me?" Malcolm asked with mock surprise. Marisa calmed down a bit and looked at him seriously.  
  


  
  


"Well, yeah. Being tutored all my life, I never really got a chance to be around other kids my age-"  
  


  
  


"Less than your age."  
  


  
  


"Yeah. And I kind of want a friend. I want someone who is loyal, trustworthy, funny, intelligent...." as Marisa's list went on, Malcolm got happier with each word. His smile got a little bit bigger every second until it was ear-to-ear.   
  


  
  


"But unfortunately," Marisa concluded (Malcolm was open-mouth smiling now, his eyes were closed), "you are none of those things, so I will have to be happy with you." Marisa laughed when she saw her friend's gigantic smile fade into an angry mouth of protest.  


  
  
  


"Hey!" Malcolm cried, undignified. "I made you laugh! I guess that counts as funny, right?"  
  


  
  


"No, it counts as stupid. Shall we continue?" Marisa turned around and walked away before Malcolm got a chance to retort. They were pretty quiet walking to the next room, but Marisa was sure she heard someone muttering things like, "Trustworthy? She should speak," and, "I am too funny!". Marisa just smiled to herself as she opened the door to the next room.  
  


  
  


Marisa was greeted by the familiar heads and tapestries of the game room. The candles scattered around the room were now lit, giving Marisa and Malcolm a better view of the intricate tapestries. Marisa looked up at all of the heads. She saw the yawning griffin with its thick, golden mane. The hippogriff was again eyeing Marisa and the "intruder". Marisa just rolled her eyes at it and walked to sit down on the leather couch. Malcolm seemed surprisingly unimpressed by her father's collection.   
  


  
  


"This is Papa's game room. This is where he stuffs and displays the trophies from each of his hunts. Next to the head you will find a tapestry depicting both the hunt and the animal being brought down. Hand-stitched by nymphs, they channel some of their magic into every strand that goes into the tapestry. The result is the effect of the tapestry "moving" even though the threads are woven securely to the pattern. Beneath every head is a plaque telling both the type of creature mounted and the date my papa took it down."  
  


  
  


"Fascinating, yes," Malcolm said in a lazy drawl. He seemed a bit distracted and anxious to get somewhere. "Say, Marisa? Would you happen to know where your father makes all of his business deals?"  
  


  
  


"Well, yes. Papa usually brings his business friends to his office after a party, why?" Marisa noticed that Malcolm was now genuinely interested in what she was saying. She could see the excitement in his eyes.  


  
  
  


"What do you say we pay a visit to our dear old dads?" Malcolm said, "Now where is your father's office?" He began to walk away, looking for the office. Marisa, however, stayed put. Malcolm turned around and asked her, "Well? Are you coming or what?"  
  


  
  


Marisa was still shocked at what Malcolm was about to do. She demanded, "Are you suggesting we spy on our fathers?" Malcolm nodded so vigorously that his pointed wizard's hat fell off. He placed at back on his head and tried to retain some of his dignity "Why in the world would we do that?"   
  


  
  


"Because of what they're up to!" Malcolm explained, "Aren't you the least bit curious?" He stood with his arms folded and his head cocked to the side, waiting for an answer.  
  


  
  


"Curious about what?" Marisa asked with a slight frown on her face.  
  


  
  


"You've got to be kidding me! Are you this naive or am I catching you on a bad day?" Malcolm asked. Seeing the crestfallen look on his friend's face, he tried to be kinder to her. He lower his voice and tried again.  
  


  
  


"Surely you've heard the planning?" He asked in a much softer voice. Marisa looked up and shook her head, making her curls bounce softly around her neck.  
  


  
  


"I don't hear much of Papa's business because he is away so much. In fact, he just got back from Albania today," she paused to look at the time again. It was 11:24. "All I know about Papa's work is that he serves a very powerful wizard who fight to protect us purebloods."  
  


  
  


Malcolm regarded her thoughtfully, going into "adult-mode" again. "Well, I suppose you wouldn't hear much about your father's business, being that he's a Searcher and all..." Malcolm concluded. He stared at the ceiling and put his thumb and forefinger on his chin, rubbing it as if in deep thought.   
  


  
  


"Yes...yes...Albania. Hmmm..." Malcolm said to himself, "The Jorkins lady was there...He's a Searcher, alright. High-ranking, I'd say. My father is actually a..." But Malcolm never got a chance to tell Marisa what his father was. She cut him off before he got a chance to finish.  
  


  
  


"Pardon me...Searcher?" Malcolm whipped up his head and nodded again, this time holding on to his hat, preventing it from falling off again, "Is that some sort of insult?"  
  


  
  


Malcolm sighed. He would have a lot to explain to his new friend. "Yes, that's the title they give to the Servants who Search for the Lord, scouting and occasionally carrying out tasks that the Lord is too weak to attend to himself." Marisa was appalled by this new information.  
  


  
  
  
  


"I don't know what you've heard, Malcolm," Marisa said defiantly, "but my father does not...serve...anyone. Least of all this 'powerful Lord' who cannot even carry out a simple task because he is too 'weak'." Malcolm just put both hands on his face and sighed deeply. Marisa was even more offended by that action, he was making it seem like she was...ignorant...or something  
  


  
  


Taking his hands off his face, he said, "You've certainly heard of Harry Potter?"  
  


  
  


"No," said Marisa sarcastically, "I've NEVER heard of Harry Potter." Malcolm closed his eyes, as if asking some invisible being for patience. He placed his fingertips adjoining with the fingers on the other hand, took another deep breath, and tried again.  
  


  
  


"Okay, I will explain everything to you, on one condition. You must promise not to interrupt me," he paused, looking at Marisa. She nodded and her sea of curls bounced again. A stray curl landed in the middle of her face and she blew the offending strand away with her mouth, "I will tell you on the way to your father's office. Lead me there."  
  


  
  


Marisa didn't like being ordered around, but curious more than anything, she began walking towards her father's office. While they climbed up the stairs, she listened as Malcolm informed her of their families' pasts and plans. She knew most of it, like about how the purebloods hated mudbloods and wanted to rid of them entirely, she was raised being taught that. Some information was new to her, such as what her father actually did for a living.  
  


  
  


"The man who tried to bring the Potter boy down," Malcolm started, "the Dark Lord, do you know anything about him?"   
  


  
  


Marisa held onto the handrail, still remembering to be dainty ("One foot in front of the other, slowly"). She could hear some music still playing from the party and the occasional laugh from the ballroom. She heard her father's booming laugh come from up above in his office. Some stragglers were walking about the courtyard, chatting and flirting. None of them noticed two small children creeping up to the office.  
  


  
  


After some thought, Marisa answered. "Yes. Papa and mother both praise him a lot. I know he is all for the purging of mudbloods and the cleansing of the wizarding world. I also know the Potter boy did some wicked thing to bring this man down." Marisa tried to remember more but found she couldn't. "That's all I know."  
  


  
  
  
  


"That's the old version," Malcolm said. He stuck one hand in his pocket as they reached the top of the stairs. "What your parents didn't tell you is that the Dark Lord has risen, that's why your father has been taking so many business trips," he paused dramatically before continuing, "Our parents, pretty much every adult here, works for the Dark Lord. It's true, he has returned, but he is not strong. Then men are discussing these issues in the office as we speak. In fact, look," he said, pointing to the open door of the ballroom. Most of the men had vanished, "Don't you find it odd that half of the guests are gone when the party has barely started?"  
  


  
  


"Why are you so interested in finding out what our parents are planning? Don't you trust them?" They were now walking down the hall. Marisa could see the portraits whispering to each other, wondering what the strange boy was doing with their relative.  
  


  
  


"Of course, I trust my father with my life, I'm just curious. Aren't you?"   
  


  
  


Marisa opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say anything, she heard the sultry voice of Aunt Sophie.   
  


  
  


"Well, well, well, what do we have here? It seems my favorite niece has returned...and with a boyfriend, I see!" Sophie lowered her spectacles to get a closer look at Malcolm. Malcolm flinched until the large, thundering woman's gaze. He looked at Marisa, obviously trying to get her aunt to stop the inspection.   
  


  
  


"Help me," he mouthed.  
  


  
  


She turned to Thelia, "Scrawny little thing, isn't he? And far to young for her. Can't even keep all of his teeth in his mouth." Thelia cackled, as always. Marisa wondered if she had an original thought in her whole head. She figured she probably didn't, she just agreed with whatever Sophie said.  
  


  
  


Marisa, determined not to start a fight, just grabbed Malcolm's arm and marched right past Aunt Sophie. She heard the familiar calls of "I wasn't finished with you, girl! Come back here and show your Auntie some respect!". Marisa gritted her teeth and did not stop until Aunt Sophie's last calls died out.  
  


  
  


"Who was THAT?" Malcolm asked. He turned around as if nervous that the large woman would be behind him again, gazing at him from behind her large spectacles and tutting around her friends.  


  
  
  


"Long story," Marisa whispered, "and keep your voice down, we're nearing Papa's office."   
  


  
  


No more than 5 seconds past when Marisa uttered that statement, when the room in front of them burst out laughing. Marisa and Malcolm tiptoed past the other portraits who, thankfully, were sleeping. They walked up to deep green door. Marisa turned to Malcolm, put her finger to her mouth, and touched the door in four particular places. The door *clicked* and opened very slightly. The noise was not heard by the men, who were laughing at another joke of Marisa's father's, probably making fun of some muggle or mudblood.  
  


  
  


Very, very slowly Marisa inched open the door until they had a crack small enough to peer through with their eyes. Marisa's head went on top, for she was the tallest, and Malcolm observed from below.  
  


  
  


"Gentlemen, back to business." Marisa recognized the voice, it was the elder Malfoy. He rapped his cane on the ground 4 times to command the room to silence. The entire room calmed down, 42 eyes were all pointed in his direction. He cleared his throat and began to speak. "It was with great pleasure that I extracted the information needed from the Ministry official, a certain Ms. Bertha Jorkins. The Dark Lord ("There's that name again," Marisa thought) was as well pleased. He formulated a plan, a new plan," he emphasized the word "new". Through the crack, Marisa saw a fat, balding man cower at this, "that will cover up for the mistakes," the man cowered again, "of some of our peers." The man looked away, ashamed of himself.  
  


  
  


"Gosh, look at that man blubber. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was a child," Malcolm whispered. Marisa elbowed him in the stomach to get him to be quiet. She heard a slight "Oof!"and then started listening again.  
  


  
  


"This year, two important events are to take place. One, the Quidditch Cup is being hosted in England this year. I expect all of you to be there, as discussed earlier. You know the plan." At this, some men started chuckling evilly. It almost sounded like they were kindergardeners with a dirty prank in their minds. Marisa looked down and saw that Malcolm was as confused as she was.  
  


  
  


"Number two. For the first time in years, the Triwizard Tournament is to take place at Hogwarts. For the older gentlemen here, you will know what this means. For the others, I will explain. The Triwizard Tournament is a competition among three schools, Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons. One student from each school takes place in a number of dangerous events, and they are scored on how well they accomplish each task. We are going to get Harry Potter in the contest."  
  


  
  


"But why?" the one named Warrington asked. Malfoy sent a deadly glare at him, as if mortified by the use of such a "moronic" question, but Mario cut in.  
  


  
  


"I'll take this one, Lucius," he said. Mario walked to the center of the room with his arms behind his back, in a similar fashion to what Malcolm was doing in the reception room. "Now, gentlemen, I trust that you all know the first plan?" he paused and waited for them to nod. When they did, he continued. "You know what the Lord was planning to do with Mr. Potter, yes?" He waited for more nods. "Well the Triwizard tasks, they will be very dangerous for a 4th year wizard to overcome." The men looked around the room, still not quite understanding the concept.  
  


  
  


Shaking his head, Mario said, "I see I will have to spell it out for you. The Cup that Harry will be so desperately trying to reach will be a Portkey. Once we eliminate the competition, there will be a clear shot for our scar-faced friend." Mario looked around dramatically and continued in a slow voice, "And do you know where the Portkey will lead?"  
  


  
  


The men, finally understanding, shook their heads and laughed. Warrington gave a high-five to a wizard next to him. Mario, relieved that he had finally gotten the message across, stood and walked towards his desk. He leaned against it, laughing at some joke he just heard. Marisa was about to leave when Malcolm stopped her. He pointed to the room and he looked in her direction.   
  


  
  


The men were now in a circle, brandishing their wands in the air. She heard them mutter some sort of incantation ("Morsmordre!") and a stream a green sparks erupted from each of their wands. Marisa gasped, she had never seen anything so eerily beautiful in her life. She saw a small skull in the middle of the circle, a beautiful shade of emerald green. Out of it's mouth slithered a majestic snake, hissing as something as he crawled. It dissapeared as quickly as it came.   
  


  
  


Disappointed to see the beautiful emblem leave, Marisa unawarely stepped forward. It was just enough to let the door fly open and resulted in Marisa and Malcolm tumbling on the floor. The group, strangely quiet for once, just stared at the intruders. Mario, however, seemed unsurprised.  
  


  
  


"Ah!" he cried pleasantly, "It seems we have visitors!" He helped both Marisa and Malcolm to their feet before speaking. "Gentlemen, I believe you have already met my princess."  
  


  
  


Marisa curtseyed upon hearing this. She flashed a smile at the group of adults, some that she knew waved back politely. She saw the younger Malfoy in the room as well, it looked like he was the youngest member of the little "club". Mario inspected Malcolm. A spark of recognition entered his eyes.  
  


  
  


"You," he pointed at Malcolm, "You must be Braddock's boy. The eyes are hair are just too familiar."  
  
  
  


"Aye," the man who was supposedly Malcolm's father stepped forward. "That's my lad." Braddock pulled his son into his arm with a pained look on his face, it seemed he was awaiting punishment for his son's mistake. Mario, however, just smiled and placed his hand on Malcolm's shoulder. He bent down until he was level with the boy.  
  


  
  


"And I suppose you will be serving the Dark Lord when you come of age?" he asked.  
  


  
  


"Sooner, if you would permit it," Malcolm responded. Marisa saw Braddock smile proudly at his son and heard the young Malfoy laugh as if Malcolm had just said something "cute". The older Malfoy had another expression on his face. He wore the look of contentment.  
  


  
  


"So I see we are recruiting ranks out of the cradle?" Malfoy said. Marisa could tell Malcolm didn't like the "out of the cradle" part, but he was immensely proud of being included in the group. He turned to Marisa, "I suppose you, like your friend, will be joining us?"  
  


  
  


Marisa looked around, nervous. Nineteen men sat around her, all expecting the same answer. She knew what she was going to say, it was just unnerving to be watched to intensely. Malcolm was looking at her as well, curious as to what his friend would say. She saw her father wink at her, and that made her feel relieved.   
  


  
  


Filled with courage, Marisa said, "If I could, I would join right this second." Mario smiled proudly at his daughter, just like Braddock did seconds ago. Malfoy looked around the room as if making a decision, he was muttering things under his breath. Suddenly, he snapped his head up and looked at Mario.  
  


  
  


"I don't see why that can't be arranged..." he started. Before he could finish, his son leapt up in a fury.  
  


  
  


"But father, they haven't even attended school! I'm entering the 4th year and I still don't have the mark!" Lucius gripped his cane and shut his eyes, controlling his anger. Mario went to go calm down the boy, but Lucius held a hand out to him. "No, I must deal with him."   
  


  
  


He faced his son "Draco, you insolent boy," Lucius began ("So that's his name," Marisa thought, "Draco.) "If you would have let me finish I would have said there would be nothing formal. Sit down and allow me to explain." The boy, humbled, found the large friend he was laughing with earlier, sat down and didn't say anything else.  
  


  
  


"We have forces in school, but in a higher age group," Lucius began, "No one would suspect a child to be working against them." He paused as he was thinking of a plan. "Children ask questions, correct? No one thinks anything wrong with that." He turned to Mario and Braddock, "Do you see what I'm saying?"  
  


  
  


They both nodded. "Yes, they could be of some service to the Lord while they're training," Braddock said. Mario was a little more hesitant.

  
  
  
  


"Only if there will be no danger for my princess," he began. Lucius turned around and inspected him, moving his gaze up and down. Mario did not show any signs of regret. Lucius walked closer to him, menacingly.  
  
  
  


"Alvarez," he started coldly, "you know there will always be danger." He paused, "I question your commitment to the Lord."  


  
  
  


Marisa looked up at her father, reassuring him. "It's okay, Papa. I can take care of myself," she said. Mario sighed. He looked at the floor in defeat. He suddenly perked his head up as if he had a new idea. Lucius noticed.  


  
  
  


"What, my observant friend?" Lucius asked, "What is your idea?" Mario walked around, still thinking up his plan. He made wild hand motions while thinking. He continued for a while until he looked up, smiled, and walked towards Lucius again.  
  


  
  
  
  


"I will allow my daughter to continue on one condition," Mario said, pointing his forefinger up. Lucius glanced at him from where he was standing with an amused look painted on his face. He always liked Mario's ideas.  
  


  
  


"Go on..." he said.  
  


  
  


"I wish to have Marisa and her little friend trained with some of our magic before the start of school."  
  


  
  


Lucius pretended to let the idea roam in his head for a while. He placed his hand on his chin and rubbed it. Marisa now knew where Malcolm got all of his antics from. He watched the older men and simply copied their movements. Lucius snapped his head up, looked at Mario and the Braddock, and smiled.  
  


  
  


"Deal" He walked across the room to shake hands with both parents. He then turned around and faced the other "club-members" in the room. "Let this be an example," he said. "Train your children, prepare them for a life of servitude. Show them what it's like to be a Death Eater." As he finished his speech, a few men clapped.   
  


  
  


"Thank you," he said to his "audience". He then faced Marisa and Malcolm and again, stooped to their height. "Now children," he said, "Don't you think it's time you ran along."  
  


  
  


Marisa, remembering her manners, curtseyed before she said, "At once, Mr. Malfoy." From the corner of her eye, she saw Malcolm follow her and bow.   
  


  
  


They both turned around and walked out of the room. Once outside, both children leaned against the wall and slumped down until they were sitting. The portraits were not asleep anymore; it appeared they had listen to the whole conversation. Marisa's ancestors all looked appreciatively at the pair for following the Lord they once did. Marisa looked over at Malcolm with excitement. When she saw his glowing face, she knew that he was as happy as she was to be made a "Jr. Death Eater". Marisa suddenly remembered that she didn't know what that meant, so she asked Malcolm.  
  


  
  


"Malcolm, what is a Death Eater?" she inquired.  
  
  
  


"Aren't you a slow one? It's the title they actually give to the followers of the Lord. And now, we're one too." He saw Marisa open her mouth in protest, so he quickly added, "Unofficial, of course."  
  


  
  


"I wonder what this means," Marisa said wistfully, toying with a strand of curls. Malcolm got up, brushed himself off, and answered.  
  


  
  


"I know what this means," Malcolm said with a smile.  
  


  
  


"Oh..?"  
  


  
  


"We're going to the Quidditch Cup! Yahoo!" Malcolm got up, ran down the hall, and clicked his heels. Marisa didn't even get a chance to tell him off. She stood up, tried to smooth out the wrinkles in her satin dress, and walked down the hallway, shaking her head.  
  


  
  


"Boys," she muttered to herself.  
  


  
  


Marisa's head was swimming with so many thoughts, she didn't even hear Aunt Sophie ridiculing Malcolm.  
  
  



	4. Chapter Four

Chapter 4  
  
  
  


*Tap* *tap* *tap*  
  
  
  


Marisa groggily opened her eyes to be greeted with the large, expectant eyes of Prestia. Marisa jumped up, surprised at being awoken so abruptly. After realizing it was only her house elf, Marisa lay back on her bed and groaned. She pulled her pillow over her eyes, blocking the light from them.  
  
  
  


"What IS it, Prestia?" Marisa managed to get out. She flopped back on her side and closed her eyes, trying to salvage a few precious moments of the sleep that was stolen from her. Prestia was wringing her hands nervously, it was becoming a habit of hers. She walked closer to her mistress and tapped her again. Marisa turned her head around and glared. Prestia took a few steps back, when her mistress had her hair in such a disarray and she looked at her like that, it made her appear satanic.  
  
  
  


"I-I is sorry, miss. Master wishes for you to get dressed and meet him downstairs." Prestia told Marisa while looking down at the floor. She wrung her hands again before continuing, "He urges you to hurry, as the rest of the group are eagerly awaiting for your arrival." Marisa knew that when Prestia said 'the group', she meant the Death Eaters. "He expects you down by 7 o'clock". She looked at the time. It was 6:34 a.m.   
  
  
  


"Yes, yes, tell him I will be right down," Marisa replied. When she heard about 'the group' it made her much more eager to get downstairs.   
  
  
  


Marisa walked to the closet, pushed through the double doors and stood in the middle of it. She rubbed her eyes, yawned, stretched, and looked around the closet for what to wear. After a couple of minutes, she suddenly realized she didn't know where she was going, so she didn't have the faintest idea of what clothes she should pick. She stuck her head out of the closet, hoping to catch Prestia before she left. She hadn't.  
  
  
  


"Prestia?" Marisa called. The elf turned her large head around, looking for her mistress. She saw Marisa's head peeking out of the closet and she walked over to her. She looked up at her with her big, blue eyes. She saw Marisa with a calm look on her face, so she relaxed a little bit.  
  
  
  


"Yes, miss?" she squeaked.  
  
  
  


"Prestia, be a dear and ask Papa where we are going today," Marisa ordered. She walked out of the closet and sat at her vanity, starting to brush her hair. She looked down on her desk and saw her mirror and jewelry box. She opened the box and heard a sleepy, boring melody play. Sighing, she looked back at her mirror. She saw from the reflection that Prestia hadn't moved. She peered over her shoulder and left the brush in the air, still brushing. "Is anything wrong?" asked Marisa with mock concern.  
  
  
  


"Sorry miss," said Prestia. She lost her nerves, but then gulped, composed herself, and tried again, "but are you forgetting what Master told you?" Prestia shrank back, as if expecting a blow for just mentioning her flaw.  
  
  
  


Marisa, not noticing her timid house elf, thought. She remembered her father at dinner last night, chuckling with his booming laugh. He was happy about something. Marisa tried very hard to remember what it was, but she found she couldn't. Her family dinners weren't exactly entertaining, so Marisa usually fooled around with the enchanted salt and pepper shakers while her father and mother used small talk to fill the awkward silence. She could specifically remember something about Quidditch...  
  
  
  


"Quidditch?" said Marisa to herself, puzzled. Suddenly, realization dawned upon her, "The Quidditch Cup! How could I forget?" Marisa slapped her hand on her forehead. She ran to her closet and began looking for an outfit to wear.   
  
  
  


"Quidditch," Marisa said to her closet. The clothes began whizzing around again, zipping around the closet. They started sorting themselves again, the formal wear from a few weeks ago were being replaced with sporting clothes, some bearing the names of teams on the fronts. In her haste, she brought her brush and lip gloss into the closet with her and allowed them to fix her up for the Word Cup. Marisa was so preoccupied that she didn't even remember than Prestia had corrected her.   
  
  
  


"That will be all!" she yelled from the closet. "Try something casual but fun," Marisa instructed her brush. She then told her lipgloss, "Enough that it shows up, but not too much that it blinds everyone who looks at my face."  
  
  
  


By the time she finished telling her beauty products what to do, the clothes were arranged in front of her. Marisa walked closer to the rack, looking for the most appropriate choice. Her fingers dipped in and out of the rows, occasionally spotting something but putting it back when she found it was not satisfactory. She finally spotted a long, black robe with a small, tasteful Snitch embroidered on the front. It flapped its wings and flew across the robe, darting from the front to the back. It was simple, but classy.  
  
  
  


"This will do," Marisa said.   
  
  
  


She chose a simple black hat and matching black shoes to go along with it. Marisa then remembered that the Quidditch Cup was known to go on for days. She went through the racks again and chose a few more outfits suitable for the event. Carefully carrying them to her bed, she laid them down. She placed her brush and lipgloss back on her vanity and checked her reflection in the mirror. Tying two black ribbons in her hair, she smiled. The mirror muttered, "Perfect, darling."  
  
  
  


Marisa fetched her tiny suitcase (it shrank and expanded magically to fit your needs) and walked back to her bed. She tried to fold her clothes but eventually became frustrated when she couldn't get it perfect. Annoyed because she couldn't do it right, she called Prestia and made her do it. Prestia obliged right away, cowering beneath another one of Marisa's death glares. Marisa just rolled her eyes in her typical fashion and walked back to her vanity.   
  
  
  


Marisa made some last minute preparations, (smacking her lips together to check lipgloss viscosity, pinching her cheeks to bring out the natural color...the usual things) grabbed her hat, and walked out of the room. Even though Marisa wasn't really looking forward to going to the Cup, she was glad that she would be joining her fellow Death Eaters again. She would also see her only friend, Malcolm again. Thinking of those things, Marisa woke herself up and began to skip happily down the halls.  
  
  
  


Aunt Sophie tried to stop Marisa to have one of their usual verbal spars, but Marisa was blissfully unaware and skipped right on past. Thelia looked disappointed. Her clanging down the halls woke some other portraits up, but she paid no attention to them. Some grumpy old wizards shook their fists at them, Marisa just spit her tounge out and kept skipping. Her curls bounced up and down with each step.   
  
  
  


She turned around and saw Prestia with her suitcase, struggling to keep up with her. Marisa laughed at her elf's efforts and skipped a little faster. Prestia finally gave up and slowed down to a walk. Marisa shrugged and continued her skipping. She stopped at the top of the stairs, fastened her ribbons more securely, and walked down the steps ("One foot in front of the other, slowly").   
  
  
  


She saw a few more elves gathered around one large pile of luggage, occasionally adding a new suitcase to the group. Marisa saw the family owl, Jose, in his cage, hooting at all the commotion around him. He was a beautiful, raven-black owl. Marisa, feeling pity for his current position, stooped down and straightened the cage, giving him a little more comfort. Jose hooted to his satisfaction and hopped on his perch. Marisa heard the booming voice of her father and looked up.  
  
  
  


"My princess!" he said as he walked to her and embraced her. He smelled strongly of cologne. "I trust you are ready for the big occasion?"  
  
  
  


Marisa nodded and tightened one of her ribbons, "Yes, Papa. I cannot wait until I see Malcolm and the rest of the group."  
  
  
  


Mario raised a dark eyebrow, "You do not care for Quidditch?"  
  
  
  


She shrugged and answered, "I suppose its alright. I am more eager to meet with my friend again."  
  
  
  


Mario nodded, understanding. "You and your friend should start your training at the as soon as we get home from the Cup." He started to walk away, but stopped and turned around as he remembered something. "Oh yes, wait until the end of the Cup, we have something delicious planned," he said mysteriously and winked. Marisa winked back.  
  
  
  


He turned and walked away, expecting for her to follow him. When he made sure she was, he said, "You should meet your mother in the kitchen for a quick breakfast. Nancy prepared a scrumptious meal for us." With that, he nodded and walked to his office.  
  
  
  


Marisa continued walking to the kitchen, watching the servants of the household continue to prepare for their departure. She saw some elves vigorously cleaning, hoping to make the estate sparkling before their master's absence. Others were checking and rechecking bags, making sure that every item was accounted for. She saw Prestia nervously wringing her hands while sitting on the floor (house elves were not permitted on the furniture) and Tules dusting an ancient vase. She noticed that the floors had changed again, probably thanks to Nancy. They were a deep blue, the same color blue as in the parlor.  
  
  
  


She got to the kitchen and saw her mother, looking elegant as ever, sipping a drink and looking at the latest issue of 'The Daily Prophet'. She glanced up at Marisa upon her arrival and nodded in her direction. Marisa nodded back and Athene looked back at the paper. Marisa sat at the end of a ridiculously large table and waiting to be served. The cook came out with omelets and porridge and placed them in front of Marisa. Nancy started shaking sugar on her porridge, Marisa held up her hand to show it was enough.  
  
  
  
  
  


Marisa looked across the long table and saw her mother daintily holding her eating utensils. Mimicking her, she picked up a spoon with the very ends of her fingertips and tried to eat. It didn't work very well and she was only able to get a tiny amount on her spoon. She eventually gave up with a loud sigh and gripped the spoon with her whole hand. She even put her elbow on the table, to further signify her defeat. She heard faint laughing, and she looked up to see her mother giggling at her antics, trying to hide with her newspaper. It wasn't working, and Marisa felt her face grow flushed.  
  
  
  


She started grumbling, muttering to her porridge, when a large barn owl swooped in and left a letter in front of Marisa. She looked up, slightly surprised, and dropped her spoon in her porridge. This resulted in another laugh from her mother. Marisa paid no heed to her as she looked at the envelope. It was from Malcolm. As quickly as the owl came it, it flew out, right through the open french door. Marisa was about to open her letter when her mother stopped her.   
  
  
  


"It would be rude," she began before patting her mouth daintily with her napkin, "to read at the table." Marisa was about to respond that she herself was just reading a few minutes ago when her father came walking in.  
  
  
  


"Mi familia!" he cried brightly, "I hope your bellies are full, as we are leaving now." He looked around, waiting for them to get up.  
  
  
  


"Of course, Mario," Athene said, "Marisa and I were just leaving."   
  
  
  


They weren't, but Marisa didn't bother to object. They both stood up, dropped their napkins to their chairs, and followed Mario. Athene glided (and Marisa walked) behind the man of the house. He led them to the reception room where some stray elves were still checking their luggage. One walked up to Mario to signal that everything was okay and ready to go. Mario nodded and cast a spell to reduce the size of the pile. Each individual case of luggage was now roughly the size of a thimble. He threw them into his jacket pocket and turned to his family.  
  
  
  


He clapped his hands together and said, "Well! It appears everything is in order!" He opened the large, glass front door and allowed his wife and daughter to walk through. As soon as they were standing in the daylight, Mario said, "And, we're off!" He lifted one arm in the air and made a large swooping motion. Nothing happened.  
  
  
  


Marisa blinked. She saw no means of transportation by which they would get to the Cup. To the left of her, Athene was looking at her nails, clearly not concerned of the lack of transportation. Marisa looked at her father, about to ask him how they would actually get there. Before she got a chance, Mario put his hand on her mouth.  
  
  
  


"A secret," he said, "It should be arriving right about..." he looked down at his watch. There was a loud *BANG!* and Marisa looked up, "now." He finished with a smile. 

  
  
  
  


"Well then," he said, clapping his hands again, "Shall we go?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter Five

Chapter 5  
  
  
  


I apologize for the following mistakes:  
  


1) I was away for a week, and I had to cut that last chapter short. If you thought it was abrupt, well, its because it was. Mybad :)

2) I looked back in GOF and found that Malcolm's last name is "Baddock", not "Braddock". I guess I must have mixed up notes or something, I dunno. For future chapters, I will continue use of "Braddock", I just got used to it.

3) For the story, I will have to use some direct quotes from J.K. Rowling, the things people say and such. I will try to mark them with a star so you will know I didn't write it.

4) I realize that I have a few typos in the story, I will try to correct them the best I can, but sometimes the words blend in so well that I cannot see them. Sorry.

5) Oh yes, I have given up on the "no author's notes" policy, it got too hard.  
  


I ask you to please review so I can know if people are reading my story. Feel free to give me some constructive criticism, it helps me as a writer. Flames are welcomed.  
  


Thank you.  
  


-------------------------------  
  


"Shall we go?"  
  
  
  


Marisa looked into the daylight to see a large, triple decker bus in front of her. It was a light blue, and in silver lettering the words "The Day Bus" scrolled around the front, along with some advertisements. An old, balding driver was sitting in the front right corner, looking decidedly bored. He wore an old uniform and hat, it looked like he had not washed it in a long time. There was mustard stains on the front and a large hole in the front of his hat.   
  
  
  
  
  


He picked at his teeth with a toothpick and swished his coffee around, occasionally taking a sip. He saw his new passengers standing before his bus, so he got up. Grumbling, he opened the door as he flicked his toothpick away and stepped out into the light. He pulled out a clipboard from his pocket and scanned down the names, looking for theirs. He stopped halfway down the list and located their names.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Mr. Alvarez," he said in a curt greeting. Mario nodded his head and took the luggage out of his pocket. He began sorting them in the palm of his hand, checking his pocket to make sure he hadn't forgotten any, and counting them. Athene was now curling a strand of her dark hair with her fingertips, glancing at some of the passengers already on the bus. She saw some she knew and waved gracefully. Mario spoke to the man while still looking down at his palm.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Yes," he said, "and this is my family. My daughter Marisa and my wife Athene." He paused to let his family acknowledge the other man's presence. Athene simply nodded, but Marisa was too busy studying the bus to say anything. She just waved her hand at him while still examining the side of the vehicle. A new advertisement was scrolling by, "Oswald Ogden's Overstocked Owlry, when in a bind, just remember the four O's". Mario shook his head at his daughter's impoliteness but didn't reprimand her. Marisa walked closer to the bus while overhearing her father's conversation.  
  
  
  
  
  


"I trust everything is in order? The seating, the grounds, the arrangements?" Mario looked up from his tiny luggage and awaited his answer. The driver nodded while yawning. He took off his hat to scratch the back of his head. Marisa glanced at his name tag before looking back at the bus. "George Atlas, London" it read.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Excellent! Here is our luggage," he said, handing the tiny pieces to the driver. George took them in his hand and began to store them in the usual compartments before Mario stopped him. He placed a hand out to George, signaling for him to stop, and lowered his voice.  
  
  
  
  
  


"I do not wish to have them mixed up with any other luggage, there is some important cargo in here. Please, put them in a private compartment." Mario took out his wallet, a handsome dragon skin import, and handed George a Galleon. He took it right away. He inspected it to make sure it was real, shined it with his jacket, and then looked up at him. He didn't look bored anymore. Smiling with his grotesque yellow teeth, he stuck the large coin in his pocket.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Yes, sir. Right away, sir." He took the luggage and jogged over towards the other side of the bus.   
  
  
  
  
  


Marisa assumed he was going to find their own compartment for their luggage. She looked up from the marquee, ("Are your potions just simply not what they used to be? Review your potions license today!") and to her father. He was now walking towards the front of the bus. He stopped in front of a door and waited. It slid open automatically and allowed a large blue carpet to roll out. It unfurled like a tounge, and then formulated itself until it changed into walkable steps.   
  
  
  
  
  


Athene walked up first, of course, hiking her dress up so not to ruin her robes. Mario went up next, fixing his hat to impress the travelers on the bus, and Marisa trailed after him, trying her best not to trip. Once she walked up the stairs, she gasped. On the outside, the bus looked like a normal vehicle that could seat about 50. She saw about 500 people on the first deck alone. Mario looked down and sensed her surprise.  
  
  
  
  
  


"It stretches magically to fit the capacity needed. Being that the World Cup is today, they needed to alter it so it was as big as it could get," he explained. Marisa nodded with understanding.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Can I sit here?" Marisa asked as she took a seat by the window. The seats were a light silver, and comfortable with many cushions. In front of her was a tray, she pulled it down and saw a menu appear. She put it back in its proper place and pushed the tray back. She looked next to her and saw that there were two seats next to her, one for her mother and one for her father. It was perfect.  
  
  
  
  
  


Mario shook his head, much to Marisa's disappointment, "No, my princess, the group is upstairs." Marisa wasn't very disappointed when she heard that. She leapt up and looked around.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Which floor?" she asked. Before Mario could answer, he was cut off by the bored voice of George.   
  
  
  
  
  


"All aboard who's staying aboard?" he asked as he walked up the carpet. He didn't wait very long for anyone to answer, though. He glanced at his clipboard for a moment and looked up. "Great," he said to himself, "Next stop, the Quidditch Grounds." Some impatient witches and wizards cheered at this. "Only 37 more miles." Now they were groaning.  
  
  
  
  
  


He trudged to his chair again, it was not at comfortable and stylish as theirs, Marisa noted. He pressed a few buttons and the carpet rolled back in the bus and disappeared. He took another swig from his coffee and shut the door. On the front of the bus was more scrolling words, it read "The Alvarez Estate". George pulled a silver cord and Marisa saw the words dissolve and reappear to spell, "Quidditch Cup Grounds".   
  
  
  
  
  


Mario quickly ushered his wife and child to the back of the bus, "Quickly, upstairs! Before the bus begins to move!"  
  
  
  
  
  


Marisa was forced into a circular room at the very back of the bus. She was pushed into a wizard already in the room and had to apologize. After stabilizing herself, she looked around the room the find that it was spacious and lavishly decorated. More advertisements scrolled around the top of the room.  
  
  
  
  
  


"This bus is a walking billboard, it is," she heard a witch say. Marisa saw her mother inching away from that particular witch. She figured she was a Mudblood, or some friend of that riffraff.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Deck three," Mario said. The others glared at him, they were stopping at deck two. Mario was blatantly unaware of his rudeness, or didn't show it. Marisa was confused, why was her father talking to a room? Why was he being rude to the other witches and wizards? Then she realized it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Yup, definitely Mudbloods," Marisa thought to herself. After noting this, she also moved away from the others in the room. She wiped her robes off as if some scum was lodged on it. She turned up her nose and walked over to her mother. Her mother encased her arms around Marisa, as if protecting her. All of the sudden, a tired voice filled the room. Marisa looked all around and wondered who it could be. Seeing no one speaking, she realized it was the room.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Deck three?" asked the room. Mario nodded. Marisa jumped a little at being talked to by a room. Her mother patted her head, as if trying to sooth her. Marisa was angered by this, so she broke out of her mothers embrace and stood by herself. Athene was not angry at this, she seemed to be relieved. The room began to move upwards, Marisa realized it was an elevator of some sort. The ride was very smooth and came to a gentle stop.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Deck three," the room said, "Have a nice day." It sounded like the poor room had been reciting lines like these all day.   
  
  
  
  
  


Marisa stepped out and looked around. This room seemed much smaller and more luxurious. Instead of 500 chairs, there were about 25. Fountains spurted everywhere and witches were serving food to the men and women seated up here. Marisa heard faint music playing in the background. She turned around and saw a large, shiny grand piano enchanted to play itself.  
  
  
  
  
  


Over the places where everyone was seated, their names appeared in thin air. She saw the names "Malfoy" and "Warrington" hovering in the air, among other familiar names. The room was much cooler than the one downstairs. At the back of the room, there was a sign that said in silver, cursive handwriting, "First Class". Marisa noticed that there were no advertisements up here.   
  


  
  


Athene glided towards Marisa and pointed her finger at the left side of the bus. Malcolm was seated there, looking out the window. He was wearing Quidditch robes very similar to hers. He had a pin on his robes that said "Bulgaria" on it with the team's colors. Over his head, the words "Braddock, 3" were suspended in the air. Marisa nodded wordlessly at Athene and she glided off towards the other women. Mario walked to Marisa.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Have a nice trip, princess," he said as he put his hand on his shoulder. The words "Alvarez, 1" were hanging over his dark hair. "I will be on business for most of this trip, so you should keep company with your little friend." Marisa looked up and pursed her lips. She placed her hands on her hips and frowned in typical brat fashion.  
  
  
  
  
  


"So I won't see you?" she whined. She was very disappointed. She had been looking forward to spending some time with her father, he had been going on many more trips since the beginning of summer.  
  
  
  
  
  


"No, and I'm sorry," he said. He pinched her cheek as he added, "But next week, when we begin your training, we will have plenty of time together." He placed a finger on her nose and kissed her forehead. He straightened himself out, and began to walk away. Over he shoulder, he added, "I believe your friend is looking at you."  
  
  
  
  
  


Marisa turned around and saw it was true. Malcolm was trying to get her attention, waving and beckoning with his hands. Marisa smiled and walked over.  
  
  
  
  
  


When he saw his friend approaching, he said, "Finally! Gosh, what's a kid got to do to get his best friend to notice him?" He had his arms outstretched like she saw some of the men sometimes do to their wives.. She figured Malcolm was still copying their motions. He patted the chair next to him and she sat down. The seats were much cushier and softer than those downstairs.   
  
  
  
  
  


"Grow," Marisa replied. She shifted her backside in the chair, settling in to her new environment. Finding some Chocolate Frogs on the floor, she helped herself to Malcolm's stash. The bus started with a lurch, and Marisa hung on to the arm rests. After getting used to the speed, the relaxed a little. Still munching on chocolate, she sank back in her chair and looked at her friend. He seemed a little disappointed.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"You haven't read my letter, have you?" he asked. He frowned a bit. Marisa sat up as she remembered it. She started searching through her robes  
  
  
  
  
  


"Oh yes! I'm sorry! I was reading it this morning, and Mother said it was impolite, and I tried to get a chance later, and the bus came, and I got on, and..." she began. She found the letter halfway through her little tirade and pulled it out. She used her hand with the letter in it to punctuate her sentence, making wild hand motions with it. Malcolm grabbed her hand and made her stop.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Okay, okay, I get it," he said, cutting off her rambling. He took the letter from her hand, studied it for a while, and handed it back to her, "Just read it."  
  
  
  
  
  


Marisa took it back and turned it around. She saw a handsome wax seal on the back of the letter. Upon closer investigation, she saw it contained Malcolm's family crest. There was the letter "B" surrounded by ivy. In the ivy there were three arrows tangled in it, one of them was broken. She hesitantly broke the seal and took out the letter. The paper was cool and crisp.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Nice parchment," she said. Malcolm grinned when she noticed.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Thanks, I used my father's special stash. He mainly uses it for business, but I managed to steal some. Keep it down, I don't want to get in trouble," he said, sill grinning. Marisa, however, was not interested in parchment when she saw something different about Malcolm.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Your tooth came back in!" she said. He didn't look so much like a little baby now. Marisa wondered why she didn't notice it before. Malcolm ran his tounge over his new tooth, trying to get used to it. He rolled his eyes and looked back at her.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Duh, if you had read the letter you would have known that," he replied., rolling his eyes again. He reached out with his hand and pushed the letter back to Marisa, "Well, go on, read it!"  
  
  
  
  
  


Marisa sighed and looked back down. In messy, loopy handwriting, was written a fairly short letter. She began to read.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Dear Marisa,"  
  
  
  
  
  


"When you get this, it will probably be the day of the Cup. I could wait until the bus ride, but I just had to tell you now. My tooth grew back in! I had to go to this creepy Healer's office who dealt specially with teeth. She was really old and wrinkly. Anyways, the 'operation' was supposed to be very painful, but I didn't feel one thing. The receptionist said I could deal with pain very well. I'm so excited!"  
  
  
  
  
  


"Of course," thought Marisa, "Malcolm is the only person I know who would be excited about being immune to a tooth surgery." She continued to read.  
  
  
  
  
  


"I also grew a whole 2 inches since you saw me last at your party. Mom said it was amazing that I grew so much in only one month. I guess it was all of my hanging upside-down that did it. I reckon if I keep doing it I can grow another inch before the beginning of the term. What do you think? I should now be almost as tall as you, I want to measure when we get there. Before you know it, I'll be TALLER than you."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Marisa laughed. "Fat chance," she thought.

  
  
  
  
  
  


"You missed my birthday last week, but its okay, you can buy me a big fat gift at the Cup. Every day that you missed, that will be another Galleon. It's been 8 days, so you have to buy me something worth 8 Galleons. Haha. And yes, you HAVE to do it, or else I will hate you forever. Don't roll your eyes at me."

  
  
  
  
  
  


Malcolm seemed to know Marisa better than herself, she was indeed rolling her eyes at that moment.  
  
  
  
  
  


"I can't wait until training starts, Pop says that we can start a little after the Cup is over. I think that McNair guy is going to train us, I certainly hope not, he looks a little intimidating. Maybe it will be your dad, after all, it was his idea. Anyways, now you have my address so you can write back to me anytime you want. It should be on the return address on the front. If not, just ask your dad, he should know."  
  
  
  
  
  


"See you at the Cup!

Your very tall friend,

Malcolm"  
  
  
  
  
  


Marisa looked up form the parchment to see Malcolm looking expectantly at her. She inched back form his exuberant face.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Well?" he asked, "Does it looked like I've grown?" He tried to stand up in a regal pose, but was thrown back down in his chair because of the speed of the train. "Hey!" he cried, indignantly, "What gives?" Marisa looked outside to see the objects whiz past the mirror. She saw whole farms zoom past her vision in less than a second. She rolled her eyes and looked back at Malcolm. He was scratching his head, trying to figure out what force knocked him back down. Marisa explained to him like a child.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"We're going at top speeds on a magical bus," Marisa started in a soft voice. She closed her eyes and made hand motions to explain, "Do you know what happens when you stand up on a fast-moving object?" Malcolm suddenly realized, and his mouth formed an "O".  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Oh, we're moving? I didn't even notice," Malcolm said, still scratching his head, "Smooth ride, this bus." Marisa smirked when she realized he was doing IT again, trying to sound like an adult.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Marisa and Malcolm chatted for a while about everything from Quidditch the house elves. They discussed Mudbloods and their future training. They were occasionally interrupted with a collective laugh from the men on the other side of the bus, Marisa could always hear the distinctive laugh of her father. During their conversations, Marisa realized she was glad that she finally had a friend. Sure, Prestia kept her company, but she was a slave, not a playmate. The only downside to having a male friend was that she couldn't "girl talk" with him.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The second she brought up clothes, Malcolm cried, "Noooo! Girly stuff!" He stuffed his fingers in his ears so he wouldn't have to "suffer" through her talks of beauty and fashion. Marisa rolled her eyes and unplugged his ears.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Fine, fine, would you rather talk about....Oh, I dunno....bugs?" Marisa brought up the first "boy" subject that came to her mind. Malcolm just rolled his eyes.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They continued talking for about 15 more minutes when a young witch walked up to their seats. She bent down to eye level with them (Grownups seemed to do that a lot to them) and smiled. Marisa saw that she was wearing a uniform similar to George's, except it was much cleaner, and her name tag read "Irva Spelling, Scotland". She informed Marisa that the bus would be stopping soon, and they should gather all the belongings they took on board. Marisa thanked her and began to collect all of her things. Malcolm picked up a black bag he had on the floor and hoisted it on his shoulder.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A female voice filled the room, repeating the same message the Irva girl just told them. "Please, stay seated, the bus can come to a very abrupt halt." she finished. Marisa looked at Malcolm, telling him with her gaze to stay put.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"What?" he said in a sarcastic tone. He shrugged his arms just like he did earlier. Marisa just punched him lightly in the arm and turned around.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"You may wanna hold onto your arm rest, those stops can be pretty brutal," Malcolm warned. Marisa obliged and held on tight.   
  
  
  
  
  


Malcolm was right, for once, and Marisa was glad she was holding on. The bus creaked and groaned while the brakes struggled to make it stop. Marisa looked out the window and saw that they were in the middle of a grassy plain. They were slowing down rapidly, but it was not enough to get them to come to a complete stop. All of the sudden, another loud *BANG* was emitted by the bus, and the occupants were jerked forward. Marisa saw one woman hit the chair in front of her with her head. Thankfully, because she was holding on to the arm rest, Marisa did not share a similar fate.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Ouch," she said, pointing to the injured woman, "That's gotta hurt." Malcolm and Marisa both winced as the poor woman rubbed her head gingerly. After a while, Malcolm turned around at Marisa and beamed. His freckles stretched across his wide smile.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Go ahead," he said, elbowing Marisa, "Say it." Marisa knew right away what he was talking about. She sighed.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Alright," she said slowly and annoyed, "You were right." Malcolm punched the air and let out a *whoop!*. "...for once," she finished. This didn't faze him, and he continued in his glee.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"I'm smarter than Marisa," he said in a sing-song voice. Marisa crossed her arms and tutted.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Closing her eyes, she said, "Let's not go there." Malcolm just smiled more and hit her on the back.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Aw....come on Miss Grouchypants, just admit it," he said while standing up. He hoisted his black bag on his back again, and turned around to walk out.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"I will not," Marisa said, still crossing her arms. She picked up the letter and stuck it back in her pocket, the only possession of hers that she brought on the bus. There was a queue to get back to the elevator, so Marisa and Malcolm just stood in their row until the line cleared up.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"You're just jealous," Malcolm said, "Excuse us," he said to a gentleman as he cut in line. The man grumbled and moved back a bit, leaving room for the two children."Come on, before the line moves again!" He held his hand out to Marisa and she grabbed it, walking into the line. The room looked a lot smaller when everyone was trying to get out at once. The names of everyone were hovering in the air, the letters so close together that you couldn't tell what they were supposed to read.  
  


  
  
  
  
  


"Keep a hold of my hand," Malcolm said to Marisa. He had to raise his voice a little over the crowds, "You can get lost in a lot like this!" Marisa nodded and held onto his hand tighter. They wove through the group until they were directly in front of the circular room. Their small size had allowed them to duck through the crowd until they got to the front. The door to the circular room slid open and about 15 people tumbled in before it snapped shut again. Since everyone was very crowded, the room adjusted itself so there was more space. After a few seconds, everyone could move around comfortably.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Deck One," Malcolm commanded in a manly voice. Some other adults gazed down at him and giggled at him, he didn't seem to notice. He let go of Marisa's hand and placed his hands on his hip. The room yawned and began to smoothly ride down to Deck One. While on the elevator, Marisa saw McNair, the man who might give them lessons. Malcolm was right, (again) he was a little intimidating. She noticed his head turning around and she quickly looked away at an advertisement ("Buy tickets for the Weird Sisters today! Touring in Ireland!") before he caught her staring at him. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Deck One," said the room as they glided to a stop, "Have a nice day." Marisa imagined that if the room was an actual person, it would be stopping itself from sleeping right now.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Marisa and Malcolm walked to the front of Deck One. Thankfully, all of the passengers on that deck had cleared out by then, so there was no struggle to get out. She saw the marquee dissolve again and no more words appeared. George was at the front of the bus, shining his Galleon again. Marisa figured he didn't get payed very well. Without looking up, George pulled the silver cord and opened the door for the crowd to get out. The carpet once again descended, and Marisa once more tried to walk down without tripping. As soon as she was out of the bus, the words over her head disappeared.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Once Marisa and Malcolm were standing outside in the broad sunlight, she managed to get a look around. Hundreds of tents were scattered about the land. Children were running around with pet toads, she even saw two little witches playing on toy brooms. The adult wizards and witches had tried their best to look "Muggle-like", but had failed horribly. An old man walked past her wearing a woman's nightgown. She saw one young man dressed in a "costume" the muggles sometimes wore, it appeared to be a "clown" outfit. Realizing something wrong, Malcolm turned to Marisa.

  
  
  
  
  
  


"Shouldn't we be wearing muggle attire?" he questioned. He looked down at his Quidditch robes and back up at the other wizards. Marisa, however, was not the least bit worried. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and clicked her tounge at her magical peers.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Don't be silly," she said, "Papa would never permit me to wear...muggle...clothes." She wrinkled her nose and winced, the idea sickened her. Malcolm nodded and peered at the crowd from his tallest height.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"I suppose he's right. It would be downright degrading to prance around wearing those rags. I don't know how the others can stand it," Malcolm stated. Marisa simply shook her head as if the other wizards were in deep need of mental help.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Muggle-lovers, they are. Probably all for the Muggle Protection Act," Marisa said. She tightened one of her ribbons that had come undone.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Yes, probably following that crack-pot Dumbledore," Malcolm said. When he saw Marisa's confused face, he quickly added, "Headmaster of Hogwarts. It's a shame they couldn't find someone more...suitable. It should only be a few years before he croaks, we won't have to put up with him too long." Marisa nodded and turned around to look back at the bus.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Papa gave me instructions to wait for him until he came out. Then he'll bring us to our campsite," Marisa said, "I hope he doesn't take too long."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Oh, I see him there in the window. He'll be but a minute," said Malcolm. Sure enough, within the next minute, Mario and Athene were standing in the daylight as well. Athene looked around and curled her lip in disgust, Marisa could guess why. Mario just frowned a little and shook his head.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Hmph," he said while facing the muggle-clothed group. He turned back to the children and tried to smile. He clapped his hands and said, "Well! Is this not perfect? Beautiful weather, family, friends, and Quidditch! How nice!" He turned around and saw the rest of the group descending from the carpet/stairs. One poor employee of the Day Bus was in charge of all of their luggage. He held the luggage in the air with a spell, but he was struggling because of the force needed to lift it. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


"Now to fetch our luggage!" Mario said cheerily. The luggage boy groaned. He followed Mario to the other side of the truck 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Behind Marisa, some of the men had began to talk amongst themselves. She heard a few cackles here and there, so she figured they were planning something. In hushed voices they were whispering to each other, Marisa struggled to listen. She saw Malcolm trying to do the same thing. Her mother, how ever, was not interested in anything the men were saying. She pulled out a nail file and let it file her nails magically in the air. She looked bored, as always.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Marisa rolled her eyes and tried to make out some of the conversation. She heard the words "tonight" and "fun", but she couldn't hear much else. She didn't want to make it too obvious that she was spying on her own little "club". She eventually gave up and hit Malcolm in the back of his head to get him to stop eavesdropping too. She heard a "Hey!" of protest from him, but she wasn't paying attention. Her father and the luggage boy were walking back towards them. The boy seemed relieved to find out the Alvarez's luggage was quite smaller than the rest of the group.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Quit screwing around, someone's going to see you," Marisa said into his ear, "Papa's here, we're going to go to our campsite now."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Always on top of things, aren't we?" he said resentfully. He crossed his arms and pouted, "That could have been important information, you know!"

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Shut up, someone's going to hear you, you idiot!" Marisa hissed. Indeed, some of the men huddled in the group turned around and were looking at them. She saw the older Malfoy gaze at them with amusement in his eyes. He turned back around after a while and starting talking with the other men again. Malcolm, realizing that he was somewhat "caught", looked up at Marisa with apology in his eyes.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Er...sorry 'bout that. I should have listened to you," he said. He kicked some dirt at the ground.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Of course you should, SOMEONE has to boss you around, right?" Marisa said while smiling. Malcolm just frowned.She looked up and saw her father clearing his throat, about to address the crowd. He straightened the hat on his head and called attention to his associates.

  
  
  
  
  
  


"Gentlemen, to the tents!" he said, and pointed in a direction. Some of the impatient ones hollered and threw their hands up. Malcolm was one of them. Marisa was expecting a long, drawn out speech like he sometimes gave at business parties, but this time he was playful. It was almost like he was getting together with some of his old Durmstrang buddies. He walked off with some of the other men, laughing and punching some in the shoulder. Marisa had never seen this side of her father.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Marisa saw Malcolm tagging along with the men, laughing at their jokes even if he didn't hear the punch line. He waddled up to Mario and tried to show off to him. Marisa tried to stifle back a laugh, anticipating what was coming. She saw Malcolm try to remember something, and Marisa knew what was coming up next. She scooted closer so she could hear her father's reaction. She saw Malcolm clear his throat and tap her father on the shoulder. She waited for what would come.

  
  
  
  
  
  


"Usted se asemeja a una rata gorda, que muere, Sr. Alvarez," he said, proudly. Marisa started laughing so loud she had to keep her arms folded over her stomach to stop from falling over. He had recited the words that Marisa told him last month. He thought he was giving Mario some sort of fancy greeting in Spanish. Mario looked at the boy, confused for a moment. He then saw his daughter almost falling over laughing, and he put two and two together. Mario smiled and put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Where did you learn my native tounge? You must be a very bright boy," he said as he patted Malcolm's shoulder. Malcolm grinned ear to ear and looked over his shoulder at Marisa. He gave her a thumbs up. Marisa tried to keep a straight face as she gave him one back. "If you will excuse me, I must have a word with my daughter," he told Malcolm. Malcolm was too proud of himself to care. Mario walked over to Marisa and tutted at her.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"You shouldn't go around telling your friends that I resemble fat, dying rats, princess," he said as he wiped a smudge of dirt off her face, "I know its funny, but I don't like to think I am dying," he said with a smile.

  
  
  
  
  
  


"Can I say you resemble a regular fat rat?" Marisa asked innocently. Father and daughter both giggled before any of the men turned around and looked at them. Mario took his daughter's small hand into his large one and laid a kiss on it.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"You can say anything, princess," he said. He gave Marisa a large hug and walked next to her. Marisa saw Malcolm walking with the older men again out of the corner of her eye. Marisa held her father's hand as they walked to the campsite. They walked through the grounds, observing all of the camp life. Marisa pointed out the man wearing the nightdress to her father and they both laughed. They walked through the emerald-green field of the Ireland supporters and through the camp plastered with a young player's face for the Bulgaria supporters. The player on the posters wasn't very friendly, he just frowned with his deep eyebrows.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Krum," Mario said, pointing to the man, "Best seeker Bulgaria has ever seen. Oh, by the way, we're supporting Bulgaria."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Of course, Papa," Marisa said, squeezing his hand. They walked in silence the rest of the way, listening to the sounds of the camp and the occasional uproar from the other Death Eaters. Finally, Mario came to a stop.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Sorry, princess, this is where we leave," Mario said, hugging her daughter, "I'll be here if you need anything, but if its unnecessary, please do not bother us. We have business to discuss." Marisa nodded, even if she didn't believe him. She hugged him again and went to find Malcolm. He was still tagging along with the other Death Eaters. Marisa rolled her eyes and grabbed him out of the group.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Hey!" he cried, a little disoriented, "What was that for?"

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Oh, so you'd rather hang out with them than me?" Marisa demanded. She was tired of Malcolm trying to grow up too fast.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"No...it's not anything like that! I can just learn so much from them..." he said. Marisa just shook her head and curtly accepted his "apology".

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Sure, whatever. Do you know where we are going to stay?" Marisa asked. She looked around for a tent or something, but she couldn't find any.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Er....I dunno. Maybe we should see what those kids up there are doing," Malcolm said. He pointed to a group of about 10 kids huddled around a single spot. Upon closer examination, Marisa saw that it was more or less the same kids who attended her party last month. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Sure, lets go," Marisa said. She grabbed his hand and dragged him over there, making sure he didn't get "sidetracked" by the many adults roaming around. When she got to the group, Marisa found that the children were listening to a thin, bony woman give out instructions. She was standing in front of an object that looked somewhat like a toy block.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"That's my Mum," Malcolm whispered. Marisa looked back and forth between the two and saw they didn't look anything alike. Mrs. Braddock was thin and petite, while Malcolm was a bit rounder. She also was very poised and blond, Malcolm wasn't either of those. He probably got his looks from his father. Marisa elbowed Malcolm so she could listen to what she was staying. Mrs. Braddock surveyed the crowd with half-lidded eyes, it looked like she was about to fall asleep.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"The children shall stay in this tent behind me, whilst the parents will stay in that tent over there," she pointed a thin, white finger to a large tent, decorated with peacocks, to the left of her. Some Death Eaters were already settling in there. Marisa saw Athene sitting on her suitcase, still filing her nails. The man named Warrington was chasing one of the peacocks, while his wife was desperately trying to get him to settle down. Mrs. Braddock cleared her throat and started again.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"The parents should be interrupted for no reason at all, that is unless one of you is in grave danger, and I assure you, that will only happen if you do not follow the rules I told you earlier."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Oh great," Marisa thought, "I didn't hear them!" She looked at Malcolm, but he didn't seem alarmed. "Maybe his mother told him the rules earlier."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"I suppose that's it," Mrs. Braddock finished. She muttered an incantation and a tent sprung up behind her. It was large, but not a big as the Death Eater's tent. Also, instead of being decorated with live peacocks, simple doves were perched on the spikes and ropes of the tent. Mrs. Braddock opened the tent, revealing a room that looked as big as Marisa's whole house. "We expect you outside in about 3 hours. Have a nice rest."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And with that, Marisa walked inside.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

* * *

Whew, long chapter. I was going to make it longer but I'm getting sore. Remember, review or I stop writing the story. Thanks.   
  
  
  


Andrea

  
  
  



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